


Real People

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Episode Related: murder101, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 04:16:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing scenes and spoilers for the episode.<br/>This story is a sequel to The Real World.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Real People

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd, not spellchecked and the demon speller LOVES me, so consider yourself warned. ;-) 
> 
> After re-reading The Real World this morning (which I wrote last night before going to bed) I realized - horrors!!! I had written a GEN story with The Guys! Nope. Uh uh. No way. So, change that to pre-slash and add a few more revelations, a massage and late night talk and I'm back on track. ;-) ::Sam smiles at her listsibs with a sigh of relief:: 
> 
> Warnings: SPOILERS!!! No sex, not really. :( If the first part was pre-slash, then I guess this one is pre-sex. But feel free to add whatever after the lights go out.  I had to cheer the Guppy up after losing his life's job and having to jump out of that helicopter. All two feet of jumping  and was that really necessary Hairboy? ::chuckling::

## Real People

by Samantha Agee

Author's disclaimer: Don't own them, wish I did, imagine the possibilities. ;-) Not for profit, unless you count feedback as profit. 

* * *

Listening out for his partner while catching up on that morning's paper, Jim Ellison heard the sick putt-putt-backfire of the ugly green Volvo as Sandburg pulled into his accustomed parking spot by the truck down below. Folding the paper, the Sentinel headed for the bathroom to finish up in there, slipping into the kitchen just as his loftmate's key slipped into the lock. 

* * *

"Hey, Jim." 

Dragging his pack from his shoulders, he let it fall to the floor as he shrugged out of his light jacket, hanging it tiredly on it's peg on the door. Ever since he had been asked back into the loft, Sandburg had been a little more careful with the house rules. The backpack went sailing into his room to land on the partially made bed with a bounce. 

"Hey, Chief. Hungry?" 

Blair eyed the big detective in amazement. "Jim, it's almost 11pm, man." 

"And if I remember correctly, you not only skipped breakfast but lunch would also be a passing memory. From yesterday. So. Are you hungry?" 

Realizing the Sentinel could hear his stomach roar with very little effort if he chose to, Sandburg mentally shrugged. Now that he brought it up, he _was_ hungry. "I could eat." 

Rolling his eyes at the standard Sandburg remark, Jim turned back to the counter, deftly slicing the ham, turkey and rolls he had replaced after losing the first batch that morning in rescuing the anthropologist from a beating with a baseball bat. Though he'd probably managed to work out some of the stiffness in the PD gym earlier, no doubt his Guide was still a little sore. 

"Into the shower, Chief. Put some hot water on those muscles or they'll stiffen up." Ostensibly he meant from the workout tonight but Blair knew better. 

"I might do that. Save me a sandwich, will ya?" 

"Yeah, yeah," Ellison waved back at him, grinning at the barely audible snort that followed. 

"Hey man, _you_ offered." 

"Shower, Sandburg. You reak." 

Grabbing up a clean pair of sweats and a tshirt from his room, Blair stepped into the bathroom, brought up short by the recently lit candles placed on the counters and back of the toilet. Feeling a smile slowly spreading across his face, Blair debated rather or not to ask Jim about it but decided against it. 

Leaving the lights off, the smile still in place, he just shook his head, whispering softly, "Thanks, Jim." 

Stripping off the smelly gray tshirt he wore, Sandburg stepped out of his jeans and underwear, pulled off his socks before keying up the shower, a bit hotter than his usual, but Jim was right. A long, hot soak under a pounding spray might be just what he needed to feel human again. Stepping in after the water had adjusted, Blair stood there, his head tilted back, face to the spray, letting it hit his face, running back through his curly hair, down his back as most of the deluge caught his chest as he shifted back. Waiting until the muscles started to loosen, he turned so that the water was hitting directly on his neck and shoulders, lifting the heavy, wet mass of his hair to give it unimpeded access. 

When the heat started to fade, he grabbed up the soap and shampoo, making quick, thurough work of actually getting clean, stepping out just as it actually turned cold. Turning off the knobs, he grabbed up a towel, running it through a wet head before drying off. Dressed in a clean set of clothes, relaxed and hungry, Sandburg exited the bathroom (after remembering to throw the old clothes and towel in the hamper), heading for the kitchen. 

"Food's on the counter, Chief." Ellison called softly through the open door, from where he leaned over the balcony. 

"Thanks, Jim." Grimly studying the contents of the fridge, Blair reluctantly passed up the beer for a glass of milk, not wanting to risk it on a sore stomach. 

He ate in silence, not wanting to disturb whatever deep thinking the detective was currently doing. And by the set of the shoulders, the intensity of the stare Ellison was directing over the cityscape, there was bound to be some earthshattering contemplation going on in that anal retentive head of his. Whatever it was, it didn't look like the big guy was willing to share. 

"I'm going to hit the hay, I think." Blair finally said after a while, watching Jim watch the city. "Try to figure out some way to get myself reinstated tomorrow." He checked the clock on the wall. "Today." 

"Sure, Sandburg, get some rest." Turning to watch the observer leave the room, Ellison's sharp eyes noted the stiff way he still carried his shoulders. "Problems, Chief?" 

"Ah, no, man. Just, you know..." The shrug brought a small grimace. "Ducking your head and folding over into a ball doesn't exactly protect the shoulders from getting hit. Water helped, though." 

"Go on to your room, Sandburg, I'll be there in a minute." 

"What for?" 

Now it was the Sentinel's turn to shrug. "Massage if you want. You really shouldn't go to sleep on that if you can help it." 

"You sure?" 

The scowl that met the question had him throwing up his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, I'm going, I'm going. You won't hear me arguing." 

"Good answer, Sandburg. Just let me lock up here." 

Moving to his room, Sandburg cleared his pack off the bed, smoothing the covers so he could lay flat. On his stomach, he didn't see or hear Jim arrive at his door and jumped when the older man spoke. 

"Shirt off, Chief. I want to be able to see what I'm doing. Easier without it." 

Lifting up, Blair shrugged out of the shirt, dropping into in a heap on the floor beside the bed. 

"Well I can see at least part of the reason for the tension," the Sentinel told him gravely. "There's a bruise the size of a baseball here." 

"No doubt to go with the bat that hit me." Blair's voice emerged muffled and cynical from his arms as he shifted slightly to look back. "Bad?" 

"Ugly." the detective agreed, thinking a moment. 

"There's oil in the drawer." Blair told him, peering to look up into the open drawer when Jim moved. "The second from the right." 

A warm, crisp scent rose to meet him and Ellison inhaled deeply. "Sandalwood and...oranges?" 

Blair nodded. "And apples. For healing." 

"Nice." Popping the cap, the Sentinel poured a little into a palm, setting the bottle aside. Rubbing his hands together, still enjoying the scent, Ellison placed his hands, palms flat against Sandburg's shoulders, immediately feeling the tension there. 

Moving and digging in gently, the fingers circled, palms sliding with flat pressure against the smooth blades. Careful to avoid jarring the ugly black and purple marking, Ellison used his senses to seek out and ease each individual muscle, enjoying the way Blair sighed and relaxed under him. 

An indeterminent amount of time later, more oil was added and the hands moved lower, down the curve of the back, following the arch of his spine until the younger man was almost purring. On impulse, the Sentinel leaned over to place a gentle kiss low on one shoulder. 

"Go to sleep, Sandburg." He urged quietly, hands gently trailing the curve back up, palms again rubbing up and outward toward the arms pillowing his head. 

"No way, man." The voice sounded sleepy, content but Jim could tell he was completely awake. "If you're going to make love to my back, I want to be awake to enjoy it." 

"That what I'm doing, Sandburg?" 

"That's what you're doing, Ellsion." 

"I guess that's what I'm doing." 

"Yeah." His loftmate shifted to his side, head propped on the heel of a fist to look at him, sitting on the side of the bed, staring at his hands covered in sandalwood and orange oil. "Want to talk about it?" 

"You don't seem too upset there, Chief." 

Sandburg shrugged. "Well that's because I'm not, big guy. Just didn't think you'd be interested." Blue eyes narrowed, wanting to read the responce on a certain stoic face. "Are you?" 

"Interested?" 

"Yeah." 

"Seems so." 

" _Seems_ so? You'd better be damned sure, Ellison." Sandburg drew back, eyes widening in dangerous intent and Ellison chuckled placing a finger against his lips. 

"Yeah, Chief. I'm interested." 

"Well that's better." 

"But not tonight." Ellison cautioned firmly and Blair had to agree. They both had an early day tomorrow - today - and between the emotional and physical strain, Blair for one was beginning to lose steam, fast. 

"No, not tonight." He nodded cautiously. "But I wouldn't mind a little cuddle. Cause, man, I've got to tell you, I've had a really sucky day." 

Ellison chuckled, pulling the younger man up with him. "So I've noticed. Upstairs? I'm not risking neck strain or twisting something when I roll out of this torture rack and onto the floor." 

Blair looked around the clutter floor and nodded. Most of the books were piled up on Jim's side of the bed. "Upstairs." 

"And Jim?" 

"Yeah, Sandburg?" 

"If I'm still fired, think I could get my own desk at the station?" 

End 


End file.
